


we'll win together, you and i

by sadie18



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Rivalry, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), No War AU, Polyamory, Quidditch, Rivalry, Threesome - M/M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, gryffindor quidditch team - Freeform, slytherin quidditch team - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-01 01:36:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15763935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadie18/pseuds/sadie18
Summary: the ministry meddles in the young lives of the sixth and seventh years, and the sorting hat as sorted percy, oliver and marcus into the same bed.it turns out just fine, if they had anything to say about it.





	we'll win together, you and i

**Author's Note:**

> hi this is me on my percivercus bullshit again

**First Week of November, Friday.**

"Good afternoon." McGonagall strode to the front of the Hall, and started the speech briskly. This was new. Marcus frowned. The entire sixth and seventh year, all houses, were here, and it was strange. It was actually taking up his free period, which miffed him to no extent.

"You have all been brought here to be the first participants in a program designed by the Ministry specifically for sixth and seventh year Hogwarts students. " She paused, mouth curling. "I'm unsure how to word this. It has been found through experiments and heavy observation that...  it seems your generation struggles with domestic life."

This caused the hall to erupt in titters, snatches of "really?" and "that's not true!" and "what are we doing?" floating through the air. Marcus turned to Warrington.

"Don't ask me, mate, I'm as clueless as you are." He shrugged amicably.

"Damn." Was all Marcus responded with. This was different. And annoying. He could be flying right now. Or pretending to attempt his Transfiguration essay.

"Silence, please." McGonagall commanded. She was a scary lady, and Marcus and the rest of his year were very fond of their bits, so the hall quieted down almost immediately.

"Today the sorting hat will be sorting you into couples, as households." McGonagall's stern eyes were the only thing keeping the hall from exploding. "You will be living with your partner for the rest of the duration of the year, or till the Ministry sees fit."

"Up until graduation?" Spinnet from down the hall exclaimed. McGonagall simply nodded, eliciting groans from everyone.

"There are some conditions about the sorting, if you'd please let me speak. Firstly, gender is not a boundary. The hat will sort you with whoever it believes will be your best fit, just as it is with houses. Any current trysts or relationships will not be immune to the hat. "

She paused, waiting for a reaction, but the hall had been shocked. The sorting hat would pair anybody together? That was like outing everybody! And breaking couples up?

Marcus didn't like that a single bit. He liked his privacy, thank you very much.

"Secondly, you will be living in personal quarters with your household member. You will be sleeping there instead of your dorms. As a part of the domestic life standards, you are expected to take care of dinner by yourselves every third day, not including today, and free time should be mostly spent with your partner. For example, if your partner happens to play a quidditch match, you are expected to attend."

Marcus saw Pucey banging his head on the table repeatedly.

"And that will be all. The sorting process will begin immediately. Everybody will be looked at once, and then there'll be a second round. This is the round where the hat calls out names. Please go find your partner and sit with them till  If you have any questions, come see me after the process. Please note that this is a Ministry conducted experiment, try not to tamper with data, such as purposefully avoiding your partner. Think of it as a project, please."

And he suddenly felt like a midget first year again, looking up at the huge hall, not with nerves, as he already knew there was a spot at the Slytherin table for him. It was in his blood.

But this was different. This was matters of the heart, deeper than loyalty and family. This was the sorting hat, some of the most ancient magic solidified. Something to tell him who was perfect for him in this room.

Marcus wondered if they'd like quidditch. He hoped so, how could he ever care for somebody who didn't love quidditch? Were they clever? It would be nice if he could get someone to help him with charms, he was thick as rocks when it came to Flitwick's class.

Were they a boy or a girl?

"Flint, Marcus."

Guess he'd find out soon.

As he strode up to the hat, back straight and confident, he felt his heart hammering. This was quite unfair. It was his seventh year, his last four months before he was up and out of this comfy little castle he called home and into the real world, and in all honesty, Hogwarts was the prettier of the two places.

He felt the hat placed on his head and instantly felt the rummaging through his thoughts, his secrets, his dreams.

_'Let's see. Quidditch. Not extremely stupid, but not the cleverest, maybe not a Ravenclaw match. Not the picky type, girls or boys will do, I see.'_

He kept silent as the Hat thought its thoughts, until it dismissed him and he was back at the table.

The round went by, and soon enough, it was back to a harsh "Flint, Marcus."

He wasn't feeling so confident now, nerves frazzled after waiting through the entire round. Bell and Spinnet had been put together earlier. 

_'Peculiar. There's more than one match I can think of for you. Your group has an uneven number, I see. You were the right match for them too, from what I can tell. I haven't seen compatibility between three people this high since I sorted Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger into Gryffindor a few years ago.'_

_'Yeah,'_ Marcus thought wryly, _'but they're friends. What about romance? And there's more than one? Is that allowed?'_

_'Yes, I'm speaking of love. You three have potential for a powerful sort of love. Rare, it is, especially between three children. There was bound to be a single or a trio in your group anyways.'_

_'I'm not a child!'_

_'I've been around centuries, Marcus Flint. You are youthful, and your love is powerful, though not distributed to many, yes?'_

_'No.'_

Marcus never thought he'd be having a conversation with a hat in his own mind. But here he was. And he was feeling brave, and a little hopeful.

_'Who are they then?'_

_'You are willing to take the risk? I could pair you with a simple girl, someone you can get on with pleasantly, if you'd like.'_

Now the hat was mocking him.

_'Shout 'em out, oh great Sorting Hat.'_

_'Alright then, better be-'_

"Wood, Oliver, and Weasley, Percy!"

Marcus had never regretted thinking to a bloody _hat_  as much as he did now.

The hall went dead silent. They were the first set of all boys and they were a trio! How was that even possible?

"Quiet, please. There's an uneven number, this was bound to happen. Settle down and move on." McGonagall announced sternly.

Marcus was in.. shock. There was no way, that Oliver fucking Wood, his biggest rival and possibly least favorite person in the school, and his snooty best friend Percy fucking Weasley who always had his face in a book, could be perfect matches for him. The Sorting Hat had to be wrong. This was not possible, it had to be some sort of joke.

But it wasn't, and he found himself walking towards the Gryffindor table in dread. He looked to Bletchley, who was sitting across from him at the Ravenclaw table with Penelope Clearwater, the former looking at him with sympathy.

Five steps- two steps. Sit down cordially besides Weasley. Weasley's in the middle, mouth gaping open unfashionably.

"Weasley, I know I'm not exactly a blessing to your perfect little world, but you might get lockjaw if your mouth drops any lower." He muttered, looking to his hands. They were calloused, scarred, angry looking. His mood was the same way.

Some being up above must have had something against the Flints.

All three of them were quiet through the round. Terence and Adrian had been paired together, and they were awkwardly but warmly whispering to each other at the Slytherin table. They were friends, after all. The Spinnet girl and Bell had been paired. Lee Jordan and one of the Weasley twins (was it Fred? Marcus thought so). George and the Johnson girl. Warrington and Montague, who were sitting an uncomfortable distance apart. There were many same-sex couples, maybe as many as the heterosexual ones. Love and friendship wasn't limited to if you had bollocks or not, or so the hat thought. Magic was ancient, it overstepped all boundaries.

So they weren't the focus anymore; at least he hoped not.

* * *

 After McGonagall gave them the location of their dormitories and they had grabbed all the things they would need from their dormitory, they walked in a stony silence to the doorway. When Wood opened the door, Marcus was shocked to see a furnished room that was so... cozy.

It was definitely different from the Slytherin dungeons, which were familiar in their own way, but this was downright warm. It was just one large-ish room with one bathroom, the kitchenette/dining area being in walking distance from-

 _"-there's only one bed._ " Weasley mumbled. "And no couch."

Granted, it was very large, and could probably fit a family of 5, being that big, covered in fluffy duvets and multiple pillows that looked unfairly soft. There was a fluffy, tan Persian carpet on the ground, with a quidditch closet to put all their equipment in. Three other cupboards, which Marcus presumed were for their clothes. There were bookshelves chock full of texts and a table which looked like it could double as a desk, and was a strange box that had a silently spinning black disc in it with a needle on top of it (it looked like something Marcus had seen in Muggle Studies, but couldn't put a finger on it. Dukebox? Something along those lines). Some candles were lit and the smell of earth after rain was wafting through the air, one of Marcus's favourite smells.  

Marcus hated it all.

Because of these two stupid Gryffindors that were supposedly perfect for him.

"Uh." Was all he could say. Wood seemed to agree with this sentiment, just staring at the one bed. There wasn't anywhere else they could sleep or separate. There really wasn't that much floor space between each set of furniture. And Hogwarts was drafty in November, even with heating charms and fireplaces, so those blankets looked quite appealing to him.

"So." Weasley mumbled again. "We're living together for the next half year."

Half a year. Gosh, that was a dreadfully long time. 6 months multiplied by 30 days multiplied by 24 hours multiplied by 60 minutes multiplied by 60 seconds..

Marcus Flint wasn't a mathematician.

"Shit." Wood sighed out. "Half a year, mate." He plopped himself down into the bed. Marcus leaned against the kitchenette counter.

That was a long time to be hostile with each other. It was already bad enough, two Gryffindors, and best friends, at that, against him. And they both weren't exactly fond of him.

"Uh. So, what are we gonna do?" Weasley said. Marcus looked up and was surprised to see that he was addressing the both of them. Well, that hat had to mean something, no matter how much Marcus wished it didn't.

"Sleeping arrangements." He blurted out. "Let's start with sleeping arrangements." God this was gonna be awkward, why did he have to bring it up?

They slowly nodded.

"Well, we're all pretty big." Wood thought aloud. "There's no way anyone's going to sleep on the floor, there's no sofa. The bed's massive."

Marcus bit back a snarky comment, because he'd figured that out himself already, and he was sure Weasley had too, the smarmy git.

"-so, um, I guess we can try and share." He finished.

That was it? No argument? They were just gonna sleep together (that sounded so wrong, oh _dear_ )?

Weasley obviously looked like he was trying to think of a different option. Even if it was his own best friend, everybody wanted a little space. That meant beds. He was biting his lip and running his hand through his hair, deep in thought.

To no avail, as he sighed deeply.

"As long as I'm not in the middle."

This made Marcus snicker, and was mortified when he looked at him incredulously. Oh Weasley had said something a little amusing, so what?

He was shocked when he blushed a little red and looked away shyly.

This was uncomfortable as hell. Marcus was going to be the bigger man here. The biggest man. The largest man in the universe, with what he was about to do.

"Truce?" He choked out to the both of them. Oh Jesus. That was risky. Slytherins were cowards his arse.

Oliver Wood had his eyebrow furrowed, looking confused and suspicious. Percy Weasley was different thought, and cut right to the chase.

"Well these 6 months are going to be awful if we have to sleep next to each other thinking about how much we want to cut each other's bollocks off. Well, not me and Olly but yeah. Truce. It's just logical, really."

And he held out his hand. Marcus took it with ease; his hand felt small and soft compared to his large one, though he felt the smooth of scars on rough wand hands.

Weasley turned to Wood and glared at him the way a mother would glare at her child when they'd said something rude at a dinner party. "Oi. You too, Oliver Wood, or I'll pen your mother."

Marcus tried his best to hold back his snigger, but a teensy smile cracked when Oliver scowled and replied with, _"you wouldn't."_

"I would, if you don't truce with Flint, because that means I'd be sleeping in the middle to stop you from strangling each other and I already dibsed not being in the middle."

This made both Oliver and Marcus chuckle. Marcus offered his hand, almost timidly, though Flints were not timid, they were very big and intimidating, thank you. 

"It just six months." 

Oliver took it after shooting an evil eye at Percy. Marcus wasn't shocked at how similar Oliver's warm hand felt to his own, rough from years of quidditch and broom handling and breaking in leather gloves. It was something familiar, in all this sudden difference.

When he released his hand, it felt cold.

"Let's set ground rules." Percy said diplomatically. "Names. First name basis. It'll be tough, but 6 months, we gotta make it work. Call me Percy, Flint."

"Only if you both call me Marcus," He said without missing a beat, " _Percy_."

He inwardly smiled when he saw the red creeping up his neck.

Oliver nodded along. "Oliver."

"Next, can you cook, Marcus? Oliver can't, he's awful, gets frustrated way too easy." Percy asked. "Thinks a protein shake is a sufficient breakfast on days he doesn't have matches."

"Oi, I resent that." Oliver complained, turning over onto his stomach and burying his face into the duvet. "It's just not one of my finer skills."

"Nah, I can't either. And protein shakes _are_ sufficient breakfasts on day there are not matches." He admitted. Oliver looked up, and Percy groaned.

"Well, Percy's really good from all the time he spends with Molly when he visits." The former said cheerfully. "We're in great hands for every third night."

It was really amusing when Percy Weasley went all red and rubbed his neck awkwardly, scowling at Oliver.

"Shut, you." He mumbled. "I'm alright at it. Oh, would you look at the time! It's nearly dinner. One I'm not cooking."

"Yet." Oliver added on, as they got up to walk out.

This had really been an interesting day. Marcus wondered what the end to this strange story would be.

* * *

Marcus was wrong. He was wrong. This was a bad idea. Truce was a bad idea.

They had to share a bed.

He might have to be in the middle. 

There was a 50/50 chance he'd be in the middle.

He was not happy about that.

' _D'ya think they snore?'_ Marcus wondered to himself as he walked back to the room. He had watched as Oliver and Percy left the dinner hall, but wanted to stay back and hear Warrington complain about how Montague was distancing himself from him and he missed his best mate and blah blah blah until Marcus had snapped and said-

"-it's because his big fat crush on you was revealed and he obviously can't see that you fancy him back because you both want to keep your bollocks, but half the coupled up people are quite homosexual so there's nothing to worry about! I've been put with my two  _enemies_ who're apparently perfect for me, according to that daft hat. Now go and talk to him, you pussy."

And he walked off.

And now he was here.

And now he was panicking.

And now he was at the door.

And now he was opening it.

And it was fine.

He didn't die immediately, so that was nice.

It was so.. normal, as if he was rooming with his old mates in Slytherin, just a little bit different.

Oliver was at the table furiously scribbling up quidditch plays, wearing a baggy old tee with three keeper's hoops on them and some old sweatpants, while Percy was on the bed reading a book that looked thicker then his head, his glasses hanging low on his nose.

"They leaving left underside blind." Marcus supplied when he walked over and glanced at Oliver's plays.

He groaned. "Ugh, fuck. Diggory's got a great defense, didn't even notice that. That won't work though, the left underside."

"They're slow though, and don't like diving. Use your lower ground." He piped back quickly. He'd be damned if Oliver Wood could best him in quidditch knowledge.

"Yes, but they're quite capable in blocking a path quickly and I don't want Katie or Angie or Alicia to get hurt going too fast. Besides, a bludger's the easiest to bunt at the ground."

"That's where some of your Gryffindork bravery should come in, hm?"

And then they went  _off_ , arguing and bickering and yelling about quidditch.

It went from Ravenclaw's attack patterns, then the Slytherin versus Gryffindor game, and then if the Holyhead Harpies were going to beat Ballycastle this weekend. They exclaimed with their hands, gesturing wildly and clapping and snapping their fingers.

"But you're wrong." Oliver had wailed, grabbing at his hair when Marcus gave a five minute speech about Ballycastles' players and trades. Marcus had managed to lose his coat, his shoes, and his tie had loosened, so he and Oliver had been sliding around the table drawing up plays in his socks. His hair was wild and his eyes were bright. He hadn't had such an interesting conversation with anyone in _forever_.

Finally, Percy snapped his book shut and smiled when they both jumped at the sudden sound. They had argued for an  _hour and a half._

"Marcus, get a shower, bed in 10 minutes." He announced. "Oliver, you're wrong, with Ballycastle's statistics, they should win the game against Holyhead, but Holyhead will win the entire league if they get the right trade from Montrose."

"What!" Oliver had yelled when Marcus pumped a fist in the air with a "yes!" as he rushed into the shower. They had spent an _hour and a half_ talking about quidditch, and it didn't end with them killing each other. Okay, maybe Marcus had circled his hands in the air in a strangling motion when Oliver clapped in his face for the third time, but still. It was a start.

Besides, he won the argument, and that's what rivals were supposed to do: argue.

Flint pulled on a pair of dark green sweats, true to his Slytherin roots, and some random shirt he'd pulled from his trunk, sticking his toothbrush in his mouth. When he went in, Percy had taken the right side of the bed and Oliver, still looking at plays upside down, the left.

Fuck. He was in the middle.

"Why'm I in th'middle," he mumbled through toothpaste as he tossed his uniforms in the closet.

"Because I don't want to, and Percy betrayed me and took your side in the argument and feels bad." Oliver said petulantly, setting his notebook down on the bedstand. "I also kick in my sleep."

"Thuck." Marcus responded and went to spit.

He was in the middle! He didn't want to be in the middle. So much could go wrong. There would be two warm bodies pressed up against him all night, and what if they moved a lot? Or snored? Or what if they had sour breath? Oh wait, there was a charm for that (Marcus quickly casted it). What if one of them had cold feet and pressed it up against him?

Urgh. So much could go wrong.

As he tip toed towards the bed, wanting to put it off as long as he could, he noticed Percy take off his glasses and settle them on the bed stand neatly. He rubbed his eyes and widened them again.

"Blimey, I can't see shit without my glasses." He muttered.

His eyes were so blue, icy against his fiery red hair.

"They make you look very intellectual, Perce. God forbid if nobody knew you should've been in Ravenclaw." Oliver snickered.

Percy harrumphed. "I need them because I'm as blind as a bat without them, not for aesthetic reasons, prat." Percy noticed Marcus hovering uncertainly and harrumphed again.

"Oh, come on, Marcus. We'll switch so you're not always in the middle. Here, now, I'm tired and I won't be able to find my glasses again at this rate." He fussed, patting the empty space between the two.

"You sound like your mother." Oliver snickered. "Come on, _Marcus_." He drew out his name, it sounding extremely foreign on a Scottish tongue. The R was rolled and the S was hissed out. It sounded so strange. Even his own housemates called him Flint, Marcus on the rarest occasions.

"Alright, don't be so excited for me to get into bed with you two Gryffindorks." He sniped. When he saw Percy's scary eyebrow furrow, he quickly added, "only joking! Joking!"

And when he slid under the covers, he felt a perfect type of warm, not too hot, not too cold, and had space left in between him and the two other boys.

He turned on his side, only to see Oliver Wood's warm brow eyes staring right back at him.

"Fuck, Weas- I mean, Percy, turn out the lights?"

"Alright."

And the room went dark and Marcus shut his eyes and willed blue eyes and brown eyes away from his mind, thinking of sleep, just sleep, and only sleep.

* * *

**First Week of November, Saturday.**

Marcus awoke the next Saturday morning comfortable and warm and _fuck what the fuck what-_

Oh, how he _hated_ McGonagall.

Because _she_ had placed them in this abnormally big bed but sometime in the night they had all drifted to each other and were more tangled then the end of a Cleansweep after five minutes against Slytherin.

Percy Weasley's head had some how found it's way onto Marcus' chest and his hair smelt like something cinnamony and toasty that smelt impossibly delightful and made Marcus hungry just thinking about it. And Oliver was burrowed into his neck, tucked under Marcus' chin, his arm thrown over both the Slytherin and Percy.

How they had managed to move from being entirely separated from each other to coming together like this without waking up was astonishing.

It was a miracle that he wasn't bothered, and in fact was very comfortable.

He didn't want to wake them up quite yet, and the sunlight was only just filtering in, so he knew it wouldn't be a long time before they would rise.

And just like magic, a few minutes later, he felt Percy startle, an turn his head upward so he was at what looked like an uncomfortable angle, and opened his eyes.

He obviously couldn't see very well, rubbing his eyes and squinting. But Marcus couldn't help but snigger when the redhead squeaked and shot up, almost falling off the bed.

"I'm so sorry! I don't know how that happened, oh, were you uncomfortable? How long were you awake!' Percy whisper-exclaimed, after grabbing his glasses and seeing Oliver still softly snoring into Marcus's collar.

"Don't worry about it Wea... Percy." He dismissed it. "I've only been awake a couple minutes, didn't even realise you both decided to use me as a pillow."

He inwardly smirked when he saw Percy's cheeks flame up.

"Don't get too used to it." He said pompously, and got up and out of the bed with as much dignity as he could muster.

And then Oliver started to move against him, his nose crinkling as he sleepily blinked.

"Morning, sweetums." Percy said sarcastically, flicking his wand at the coffee machine at the kitchenette.

He then noticed what he was doing and who he was sleeping on.

"Fuck!" He said, wriggling away, and in turn, falling off the bed. Finally Marcus was able to move, stretching out.

"Morning, Wood." Marcus said wryly. Percy laughed a light laugh.

"Sugar and milk?" He called.

"Black, please." Marcus responded, peeping over the bed and guffawing at Oliver's confusedly-disgusted expression.

"Funny, Olly has his black as well."

"Was I sleeping on you?" Oliver ignored Percy and asked. Nod.

"The entire night?" Shrug.

"Did I wake you up?" Shake.

"Were you uncomfortable?"

"Well, I woke up 'cus of the light, not you two. Percy here, though he was laughing at you, was using my chest as a pillow while you tried to give me a hickey in your sleep."

This had been a fantastic start to the morning. He'd made two Gryffindors uncomfortable and one of them was making him a coffee!

"Oh hush, you." Percy grumbled, setting down two mugs on the table and keeping a third for himself. The two other boys bounded to sit at the table, taking in sniffs of the delicious drink.

"Are you queer?"

Marcus choked a little bit on his coffee. No wonder Percy couldn't be in Ravenclaw or Slytherin. No tact and straight to the point.

"You don't have to answer!" Percy amended swiftly. "But the three of us are obviously blokes and I know I like blokes and Olly can speak for himself so I was just wondering if you knew yet or if it was a surprise or-"

"-it's fine, calm it, Percy." He answered. "Bi, I think. Think I'm a bit partial to blokes though, considering there's two of you and not just one."

Oliver snorted. "I'm pan or something like that. According to one of Percy's strange books that he borrowed when he told us he was queer. Don't really care what your bits are if you play quidditch and love me or some bollocks like that." 

They all giggled a little at that, and it fell silent again.

"So, uh, what are you gonna do today?" Oliver mumbled from behind his mug.

"The library." "Flying." Percy and Marcus said at the same time.

"Practice on me?" Oliver asked Marcus hopefully. Really, all the boy cared about was dominating the world one match at a time.

But then again, so did Marcus.

"Sure, if you really want an ass-kicking this fine Saturday." He replied smarmily. Oliver's eyes flashed with competition and Marcus already felt the adrenaline of their rivalry, even at their little table having coffee in their pyjamas.

"Oh, the both of you, that means I'll have to come watch, McGonagall said so." Percy complained. 

"Bring your books down to the pitch and sit in the stands or the grass or something." Marcus suggested. The redhead just harrumphed. He had a habit of doing that.

"Fine, but library next time. Or maybe later today." He shoved his glasses up his nose, so they were crooked on his nose. That was irritating. Couldn't he see they were crooked?

Marcus could.

* * *

The most of their morning was spent with Marcus bulleting through the air and firing quaffles at the hoops, which Oliver did a good job of saving most of them. But they were even, and some people had even come out to the pitch to watch the two best Quidditch players in the school play.

"They're good." Percy said to Katie and Alicia, lying next to him, eyes up and on the two blurs in the air.

"Some of the best. They'd be lethal if they ended up on the same team." Katie muttered back. "But their rivalry and nemesis thing kinda puts it off, doesn't it?"

"Oh, if they've been paired up together with Percy here, there must be something else that's not hate. I say you two and him were nasty to each other because of it." Alicia said, turning to Percy. He spluttered unattractively.

"We d-did no such thing! We had no clue that we'd be put together! Always thought that hat was a little barmy!" 

"Well, have you three really argued yet? Or have you put together some sort of civility terms and have been completely fine?" Katie said knowingly. Percy reddened instantly.

"Maybe." He mumbled petulantly. "But its 6 months! Ridiculously long time to be sending each other to the hospital wing! And he's not bad when he's being logical about being civil."

"And how was sharing a bed?" Alicia's eyes sparkled with mischief. He groaned, looking up to the sky and regretting it, because the two of them did look rather dashing when they were rushing about brooms in a rather barbaric sport. Percy never had a taste for it.

"It was fine." He grumbled. "No more questions, I have studying to do." And he set about opening Transfiguration IV.

He missed the knowing look between Katie and Alicia, those two sneaky girls.

* * *

**Second Week of November, Saturday**

The next week passed without any hitches. Percy cooked something good for dinners, while Marcus and Oliver were sharing the pitch for team training. They bickered, went to bed, woke up all tangled weirdly (Marcus had been a little spoon to Percy at one point) and rushed around in the morning. There had been an embarrassing incident where Marcus and Oliver had switched ties and shown up to breakfast. Creevey had a field day with that one, snapping the exact moment Marcus had hovered over Oliver, holding a red and gold tie on his neck. Percy had laughed till he cried and told Colin to give that one to him. He stuck it up on the wall over the jukebox with a sticking charm.

Other then that, all was fine, but Marcus would still bump Oliver in the halls, just not so hard and he would flip Percy off with a sweet smile on his face and Oliver and Percy would do it right back.

Hogsmeade weekend rolled around though, and Marcus was a little nervous, because in all honesty?

Felt a bit like a date.

Now, Marcus had taken a bird or two out on a date, but it was to icky places like Madam Puddifoot's and he'd ditched them as soon as he got the chance. Girls were weird in the way they liked tea in tiny little china cups and small cakes that filled about two millimetres of his stomach. He'd much preferred a goblet of butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks.

"Where are we going then?" He wondered aloud, as they fussed out of the castle in a hurry. As part of the experiment rules, they had to do everything together, including Hogsmeade. He found he didn't mind too much. He hadn't gone soft, mind, and he still disliked the two Gryffindorks.

(He thought so, anyways)

"Honeydukes!" Oliver piped up. "Sweets!" 

Percy groaned and turned to Marcus.

"The sweet tooth on him! We go to Honeydukes every Hogsmeade weekend and he just buys anything he can get his grubby little hands on." He complained.

"Explains why he's been losing physique recently. You're not going to be able to continue on quidditch like that!" Marcus snarked, but without vigour. Oliver gasped, mock-hurt.

"You take that back! I am in nothing but good shape! The best shape! My abs are better then yours!" He argued back (because that was what rivals did. Argue).

"Well you're obviously blinder then Percy if you think you're in better shape then me! I have better abs then you!" Marcus sniped back.

"Oh shut your mouths, you both will be in hideous shapes if you only have protein shakes and coffee and sweets all day long." Percy cut in. His face was strangely red, though he hadn't been arguing or anything. "But we'll go to Honeydukes and the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer, yeah?"

"Alright." They chorused like children, and glared at each other right afterwards. 

* * *

Percy was confused. As he watched Marcus and Oliver bicker and shove each other lightly on their way to Honeydukes, he let his thoughts wander. He had always had this little, teensy, unnoticeable crush on Oliver. He'd been the one to help and respect Percy's journey through youth and identify himself as queer and quite proud of it. He admired his drive and enthusiasm in things he loved. Oliver's hair was floppy and soft and his eyes were warm and he had a light dusting of freckles on his nose that Percy had always wanted to count, because counting was logical even if feelings weren't. When Oliver came out as pansexual, Percy's heart fluttered for days and his crush kicked in full force.

And when they were put with Marcus, barely anything changed.

Though, Percy supposed, Marcus wasn't bad at all. Not really, even though it had just been a week and they'd started it off hating each other's guts. But he was like a puzzle, and Percy  _adored_ puzzles because they made sense, unlike Oliver, who was a wild spirit. But then Percy had realised that Marcus was a very complicated puzzle with many layers and different sized pieces and bits that didn't fit together, and Percy realised that he and Oliver were similar in the way that Percy just  _couldn't figure them out._

And that's really what drew him in. 

The floppy black hair, the strong stature, his wonky teeth that showed whenever he smiled (which was often because Percy was unintentionally hilarious, apparently). He was silent sometimes, brooding at the desk when he was pretending to study. His eyes were a cold grey with flecks of a colour Percy hadn't gotten close enough to see yet; they were so different from Oliver's warm brown ones, with orangey flecks. 

It wasn't a crush.

(He thought so, anyways)

He hoped that the hat meant something, when he put the three of them together. 

Percy didn't like the ugly feeling he felt, his heart twisting when Oliver and Marcus bumped shoulders and poked each other, sniggering at each other's moronic moves.

"Come on, Perce, you're supposed to be in the middle to stop us from strangling each other!" Oliver whined. 

"Yeah, Weas-Percy. He's gonna kill me at this rate, and all I said was that I'd rather go to Montrose instead of Puddlemere when we graduate!" Marcus jibed. Percy stepped between them before Oliver got the chance to respond. 

"You both are children, honestly." Percy said exasperatedly. 

"Oi! I resent that!" Marcus whinged. "If I can lead a quidditch team to victory then I'm not a child!" 

Oliver opened his mouth to speak but Percy quickly pointed out that Honeydukes was right ahead. The former dashed off, leaving Percy and Marcus in the dust.

"Huh." The Slytherin said, looking at the crowded store. "You Gryffindors really love sweet things."

"Not all of us."

Percy hadn't been looking at the store.

But rather, the boy standing right next to him.

* * *

**Fourth Week of November, Wednesday**

A few days later, Slytherin had a Quidditch match against Hufflepuff, and Percy and Oliver were required by the rules to go and support Marcus. So that meant sitting in the Slytherin stands. Thankfully, Fred was there in support of Lee and his commentary, so he plopped himself by the two of them. Colin Creevey was nearby, snapping pictures of the game.

"So how are you two, no, three lovebirds doing?" Fred asked mischievously. Percy had never told Fred of his crush on Oliver, but Fred was clever. Oliver laughed and Percy blushed, like always.

"Oh shut it, Weasley, you're still speaking to your captain." He said casually, but Percy's eyes glazed over when he heard the asserted  _dominance_ in his voice. Oh, dear, this wasn't good. He shook himself back to his senses and stuck his nose in the air.

"What about you and Lee, little brother?" Percy said pompously, shoving his glasses up his nose. "Like sleeping together in the same bed?"

But instead of being embarrassed, Fred just laughed. "Loving it. We don't just use it for sleeping and reading, you know. We also like to-"

"-too much information, Fred!" Oliver groaned. "Shut up, it's starting!"

Percy heard Lee's commentary and saw Cedric Diggory and Marcus shaking hands in the middle of the pitch and Madam Hooch blew the whistle and they were  _off-_ everything was going so quickly.

"Flint gets the quaffle, rolling right under Smith-"

"-damn." Fred said, acknowledging the skilful move Marcus executed.

"He feints throwing left and Fleet is taken the wrong direction leaving two wide open goals for Flint, c'mON Fleet! Slytherin SCORES! 10-0!"

And just like that, Marcus had scored, not even panting, from what Percy could see. 

The game went by, racing quickly. Malfoy and Diggory had been whizzing around the pitches for ages, with one scare when Malfoy had dived right towards the ground when seeing the snitch and just missing it as it darted out of the way. 

"The Hufflepuff defense is strong, but so are the Slytherin chasers- what's this! Flint's found a blind spot, Pucey's tossed it right to Flint! The left underside has been left unmarked, and  _Smith, you lazy arse, why won't you dive for it!_  10 points to Slytherin, 90-70!"

Percy vaguely remembered a conversation about a week ago that Oliver and Marcus had about Hufflepuff's defense, and they'd predicted it  _to a tee._

"He used my play!" Oliver exclaimed excitedly. "We designed that play for the left underside! Remember, Perce? Wow, he did it perfectly too, wonder how many times he drilled Pucey with this!"

"Yeah." Percy breathed, watching Marcus whizz around the stadium. He flew right by the two of them, not stopping or looking. His full concentration was on the match, all his drive and effort. He and Oliver were similar that way. 

"And Malfoy's got the snitch! Blast. Well, Slytherin's won, which isn't super amazing but they'll be playing whoever wins in the Ravenclaw-Gryffindor match! Ow, Professor McGee, that was necessary?"

"Aw, shucks, we'll be playing him after we smash Ravenclaw." Oliver complained next to him. "I'm not in the mood to get my teeth knocked in by him!"

Fred beside him gaped mockingly. "Not willing to play against Flint? That's practically a marriage proposal!" Percy chuckled when Oliver scowled. 

When they got back to the dorm, Marcus hadn't come back yet, probably still celebrating. 

Percy flopped onto the bed and groaned tiredly. 

"I'm lying on you, don't move." Oliver announced and jumped onto the bed and propped his head onto his stomach. Percy was immediately on edge. His nerves were frazzled. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed all the thoughts he kept for late at night to go away, keeping his breathing even as Oliver looked up at  _Quidditch Weekly_.

Less than an hour later the door flew open and Marcus ploughed through, decked out in a pair of sweatpants and a white muscle tank. It was unfair.

_Was everybody in the world trying to kill Percy?_

"Oi!" Oliver jumped up and pointed at Marcus. "You used it! You did it!"

"I know!" Marcus exclaimed and jumped onto the bed and propping his feet up on Percy's stomach, where Oliver's head had been lying seconds before.

_The universe really despised him._

"It was so good! Smith was so shocked he couldn't even try and dive after me! And Pucey's throw was  _excellent._ I'd drilled them for  _hours_ on it." He babbled excitedly. "It went  _perfectly,_ "

"I knew it would work!" Oliver crowed. "I said so, didn't I! Smith is too much of a nob to have understood it!"

And they chattered on about the match and how it went and how much of a nob Zacharias Smith was and Percy felt quite content.

* * *

**First Week of December, Thursday**

Percy was in the middle tonight and he'd been stressing about it the entire day.

It wasn't even because he had to sleep in between people he had minuscule crushes on (though it was part of it). It was because  _he hated_ sleeping in the middle and he had a big Ancient runes test the next day, but Marcus and Oliver had already taken more middle shifts then him because of the more classes and tests he was having. He would rush around in the morning frazzled and drinking his second cup of coffee before he'd even gotten to the Great Hall to have breakfast, where he'd then have a third cup. His hair was a frizzed red mess on top of his head and his glasses always lay crookedly on his nose. He'd settled for studying till ridiculous times of the night and creeping into bed next to Marcus or Oliver.

To be quite frank, he felt  _really bad._ So he wasn't going to complain about it today and just take it like a man. It was his last test, after all. 

He came back from the library, sneaking in late, rubbing his eyes and yawing, nudging the door open and..  _whoa._

The room was entirely clean, something that the room hadn't been since Percy's tests had started two weeks ago because he was the only one that put any effort into keeping it clean. There was a mug of chamomile tea on the table, still warm under a Stasis charm. There was a note on the table. 

" _Don't worry about sleeping in the middle tonight, we know you hate it and we know you have your final test tomorrow. There's coffee in the pot for tomorrow, so don't worry about it tomorrow morning. -M, O"_

Percy's heart swelled as he sipped the tea (milk and two sugars, just like he liked it), and he looked over to the bed to see Oliver's arm draped over Marcus, who was breathing heavily away in the middle. They'd cleaned up, made coffee and tea and took the middle spot for him so he'd be okay for the test tomorrow.

Percy felt his eyes droop and was reminded of why they'd sacrificed the side of the bed for him, and he quickly changed into his pajamas and crawled in next to Marcus.

He slept immediately, content, sound.

Warm.

* * *

Percy went through the rest of the day in a daze (except during his test, because no  _boy_ was going to be the reason he failed a test, fuck that). But he basically drifted through the rest of his classes and when he went to the library, ended up reading the same page the entire time because he was too busy  _thinking_ and his brain  _didn't seem to be working quite right_ because it somehow was attached to his heart. Whenever he thought of the sweet gesture the two boys did for him the night before, his heart would race and swell and his stomach felt light and his eyes glazed over.

Percy didn't like this feeling. He had no control over it. 

He'd woken up that morning and rushed about the room, chugging coffee and getting ready for the day and rushing out with a quick, "thank you for last night! I have to get breakfast and then study!"

And then he realised how that sounded and hadn't been able to focus the rest of the day. So... domestic.

It had been one month, and he'd already proved the barmy old hat right. That he was completely compatible with these two boys. He was very fond of them, and he liked watching them fly. He laughed when they bickered and he felt helpful and busy fussing over them. He found the way Marcus would attempt reading _Quidditch Weekly_ lying with his head hanging off the bed so he was upside down endearing. He saw how Oliver would use wandless magic and flick his hand at the bed to make it and Percy would flush and will unwelcome thoughts out of his head.

In revelation of his rapidly growing crushes, he groaned.

He still had five months left.

* * *

**Second Week of December, Saturday**

Christmas was coming up, and Percy Weasley had just  _two and a half_ hours to do all his shopping. That meant 6 siblings, 2 parents, one Oliver Wood and one Marcus Flint.

He didn't have much money, but he was determined to make the best of it.

"I have to Christmas shop, so bugger off, the both of you." Percy said pompously, shooing them off.

"Oi, so do we!" Oliver responded, his mouth muffled by the scarf wrapped tightly around his neck and mouth. "Meet back at the Three Broomsticks in 2 hours and we can walk back to Hogwarts together?" 

Percy nodded.

"Ok then, Marcus, Perce, bugger off, if I need to get you gifts, you can't be here, I'm starting here." Oliver said, snootily crinkling his nose at Percy.

"Ugh, you're annoying.  _I_ was gonna start here." Marcus complained. "Fine, I'm going to Scrivenshafts, don't follow me." And he marched off. 

"Get lost, Perce." Oliver said teasingly, and waved his hand at him, mimicking the move Percy had pulled seconds earlier.

"Ah, bollocks. I hate you two." He sniffed.

He hid a smile when Oliver yelled after him, "nah, you don't!"

He bustled around, trying to find gifts with meaning. For Ginny, he got a mini broomstick polishing kit. Ron got a small instant wizarding camera (that happened to be on discount, score!). Fred and George got prank kits respectively. Bill got a simple chain necklace. Charlie got a little dragon sculpture that blew fake fire and flew in circles. Mrs. Weasley got a new set of whisks. Percy's personal favourite purchase was Mr Weasley's. Percy had found a recently opened Muggles antiques store and was instantly blown away by all the trinkets and gadgets that adorned the walls and displays inside. Percy bought a couple muggle records for the muggle jukebox that Mr Weasley had at home to tinker with, by the Beatles (everybody knew that Ringo Starr was a wizard; you weren't a muggle with a name like  _that_ ). Then Percy did something he rarely did and bought some records for himself, by the Beatles and some random Christmas records, for the muggle jukebox they had in _their_ room. 

Then it was the hard part. Marcus and Oliver.

Percy had been drawn to get the newest edition of  _Quidditch Through the Ages_ , Oliver's favourite book. He might have read his own copy over a hundred times over, and it was therefore then dog-eared, ripped in place, drawn and scribbled in, and stained. He would love having a new copy he could actually read (though Percy would  _slaughter_ him if he scribbled in the new one).

Marcus was tougher. Though they had spent every waking moment together in the past month and a half, he had known Oliver much longer. He had been stuck between  _The Big Book of Quidditch Plays and Star WInning Teams_ and a big, warm Montrose Magpies merchandise sweater, just released. Percy knew that Marcus loved the Magpies.

Satisfied with his purchases and realising it was just about time to head to the Three Broomsticks, he left the store, bags in hand.

* * *

**Third Week of December, Christmas Eve/Day**

The night before, Christmas festivities were in full swing. The Ministry experiment required everybody to stay over the holidays, something about a "domestic family Christmas" or some bollocks. People were enraged, but it was the ministry.

Each house had their own parties back in the common room, something they hadn't done since getting paired up. Oliver managed to loosen Percy up and have some firewhiskey. Too bad that both the Gryffindor were  _awful_ lightweights. 

So Marcus' eyes rolled into the back of his head almost when he received a patronus from a guffawing Fred Weasley at his own Slytherin party.

"Oi, Flint, come get your two boy toys," (Marcus really, really tried to ignore this), "they're tipsy and giggly and awfully lightweight so we don't want them anymore."

Marcus sighed, waving at Warrington who was lounging with Montague, hands lazily intertwined. He meant to say bye to Higgs and Pucey as well, but they were snogging in a corner, hands somewhere questionable.

When he got to the portrait of the Fat Lady, Fred Weasley swung it open. He only managed to peep some gold, red and very soft couches and some drinks and a fireplace before Fred tugged on two drunken Gryffindor boys.

"Oh, Perce!" Oliver cried. "It's Marcus! Hi Marcus!"

Had Marcus mentioned how he liked how Oliver said his name? He rolled his Rs and hissed the S.

"Marcus!" Percy whisper slurred. "What are you doing here?" 

"We're going to the dorm." He said gently. He turned to Fred. "I've got it. Thanks." He nodded and left.

"Already?" Percy whinged. "Fine." He grabbed Marcus' hand. "Okay, let's go!"

Marcus chalked it up to Percy's complete drunkenness and the fact that he had some alcohol in his system as well.

But Marcus' brain short-circuited and Percy Weasley was holding his hand, his ugly, calloused, scarred hand.

"Yeah." He choked out. "Yeah, let's go, you two."

"Bye Angie! Bye Freddie! Bye Georgie! Tell Katie and Alicia I said bye once they're done snogging!" Oliver yelled back cheerfully.

And then he grabbed Marcus' other hand.

Marcus had never wanted to leave the existence he was going through more then  _right now._

Because Percy Weasley was holding his left hand and humming breathily. And Oliver Wood was holding onto his right hand like it was a lifeline. 

"Thank you, Marcus Flint." Oliver slurred. "You came for us! That's nice of you. Hey, you have a birthmark on your eye! Your eyes are pretty. They're really cold though. What if you had one brown eye and one grey eye? Warm and cold! That's something! What's the word? Hetero- heterosexual? No, you're not heterosexual."

Marcus snorted.  _Hell no, he was't a hetero._

"Heterochromia, Olly." Percy muttered next to Marcus. "It's heterochromia. And your eyes  _are_ pretty. They're grey."

"We're here!" Marcus squeaked. "We're here! Get in!" 

The two stumbled into the room and crashed onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. 

"Oi, take off your clothes!" Marcus yelled exasperatedly.

"Ew, we're  _tipsy_  Marcus, what are you  _doing?_ " Percy scrunched up his nose.

"No! Just change into your pajamas! Here!" Marcus threw their shirts and bottoms at them and they immediately stripped down, tripping over pants and fumbling over belts. 

How awkward  _was this._

Marcus' heart stopped. Oliver Wood-

-had the finest body he had  _ever_ seen. Toned and muscular from all the years playing quidditch and working out, tan. He stretched up to put his shirt on and Marcus gulped.

And made the mistake of looking at Percy. 

Percy was freckled everywhere, and while he wasn't tan or extremely toned like Oliver, he was rather fit. And _tall_. And Marcus wasn't a mathematician, but he wouldn't mind counting all the freckles he had  _everywhere._

Now that was definitely the firewhiskey talking. 

When everybody was decent (and Marcus calmed down), they crawled into bed. Marcus was in the middle, and tensed when the two boys next to him burrowed close, mumbling and muttering unintelligible words.

* * *

 Percy woke up groggy, which was to be expected after a night of few drinks. He could remember bits and pieces.

Oliver had a hand on his waist which was awkward, and he was snoring softly away. 

"Morning, sunshine." 

Percy grabbed for his glasses and found Marcus sitting atop the table holding a newspaper and nursing a cup of coffee. There were two mugs steaming on the counter behind him. 

"Did I do anything stupid last night?" He groaned, getting up.

"Maybe."

Percy's head shot up to glare at Marcus' smirk. 

"Marcus. Flint." 

"All you did was blabber on with Woo- Oliver (damn, old habits died hard) about how pretty my eyes are. And what it'd be like if I had heterochromia or something. And you both held my hand while I walked you two here. And stripped for me-"

"-WHAT!" Percy squawked, making Oliver jolt up. 

"Only joking! You guys changed into your pajamas, calm down." Marcus mumbled behind his mug, trying to hide a smile. "Merry Christmas, the both of you. Awful lightweights, you are."

_Christmas!_

That seemed to get Oliver's blurry-eyed attention.

"Ooooh." He mumbled, getting out of bed and taking the mug offered by Marcus. They had tossed their presents under a small statue of a tree. They'd shrunk some ornaments and lights and charmed them to stay floating on the tree. It was funny to see a little tree about 10 inches tall hovering in the corner over some presents.

"Can we open them? Pleeeeeeease?" Oliver stuck his bottom lip out like a child. Percy couldn't help but smile a little.

"Yeah, yeah."

Oliver ripped through parcels like a ten year old, which left Marcus and Percy rolling their eyes at each other. 

Quite suddenly, three owls pecked on the window. Pig, Errol and Hedwig.

There were carrying three big parcels, and one red letter, and Percy knew exactly what they were.

"Oh,  _bugger."_  

"What are those?" As Marcus opened the window to let the owls in, they dropped the parcels over by the rest of them. They pecked on the treats Oliver had fetched and were soon on their way to the Owlery.

The red letter. 

"Looks like Mrs. Weasley's sent a howler!" Oliver guffawed, holding his stomach. "Open it, get it over with then!"

Merlin, what had Percy done to deserve this? He ripped it open, just letting it go."

"PERCIVAL WEASLEY! HOW IS IT I HAD TO HEAR FROM RON AND GINNY AND HARRY OF ALL PEOPLE THAT YOU HAD BEEN HAVING A PROJECT BASED ON  _LOVE_ OF ALL THINGS AND MADE NEW FRIENDS? OR ARE THEY MORE NOW, IF THEY ARE APPARENTLY PERFECT FOR YOU? I WOULD LIKE TO LET YOU KNOW THAT AS YOUR PARENTS, ARTHUR AND I ARE SO DISAPPOINTED THAT YOU HAVEN'T WRITTEN TO US ABOUT IT? AN ENTIRE MONTH AND A BIT AND NOT A SINGLE WORD ABOUT MARCUS AND OLIVER! YOU HAVEN'T TALKED ABOUT FRED AND GEORGE BEING APART OF IT AS WELL! DON'T YOU FRET, THEY GOT ONE OF THESE TALKING TOS AS WELL, YOUNG MAN! HOGWARTS HADN'T INFORMED US ABOUT ANYTHING BESIDES THE FACT YOU WERE STAYING OVER THE BREAK! SO YOU BEST BELIEVE IT WAS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY! I HAD TO RUSH PRESENTS FOR MARCUS AND OLIVER AND LEE AND ANGELINA! IF YOU TWO ARE HERE, KNOW THAT I SEND MY LOVE, AND MERRY CHRISTMAS! HOPE YOU LIKE THE PARCELS, WELCOME TO THE FAMILY!"

And then it burst into flames.

There was a moment of silence before Oliver and Marcus burst into tears of laughter. 

" _Percival Weasley!"_  Marcus shrilled mockingly out. " _Not a single word!"_

"Your mum's a blessing, can't believe you wouldn't write her about this! You ashamed of us?" Oliver teased.

Percy reddened and groaned even more then he had before.

"Am not! She just always makes a big deal out of everything, is all. Like  _this."_ And the two other boys were thrown into peals of laughter again. "If you two keep giggling like first year Hufflepuff girls, I won't give you your presents, which my mother had quite obviously  _rushed_ , especially since she had to write a howler at me. Ginny and Ron are snitches." He huffed.

"Aw, don't be that way, Percival, I'd like to see how your mum welcomed me into your clan." Marcus mock whined. Oliver sniggered and they almost went into more fits of chortling until Percy threw the parcels at their heads with surprisingly good accuracy. They sadly caught them with ease, though, those two Quidditch fanatics.

"Damn, Percival, ever thought of going for chaser?"

"Shut up and open it, Marcus, before I chase  _you."_ He answered haughtily.

Percy blushed profusely when they opened them to see two signature Weasley sweaters. Marcus' was made with a dark Slytherin green, a gold 'M' on the front. Oliver's was red, with a mustard 'O' on the front. Both were soft and warm, comfortable and perfect for the winter.

"Oh my god, it's a bloody famous Weasley sweater!" Oliver said in delight. "These look warm as  _hell."_ Marcus was already shrugging his on. Oliver and Percy (who's sweater was in a pale blue with silver lettering), followed suit.

"You'll have to write your mother back." He announced. "Because I love it and will be keeping it until the day Merlin comes back from the dead in drag."

Percy choked on his coffee at the thought. 

"Here are my other gifts to you." Percy said hastily, tossing more neatly wrapped parcels at them. "Sorry Marcus, didn't think my mum was gonna find out about you two."

"Fuck yes!" He cheered, seeing his Montrose Magpies sweater. "Now I have  _two_ sweaters to alternate through!" 

"Oh my god, newest edition! Percy, this must've cost a fortune!" Oliver exclaimed.

"Best not write in it then." He sniffed, hiding a smile behind his mug when Oliver hugged the book in all seriousness.

Marcus' gift to Oliver was a box of Honeydukes' finest chocolates, which had him squealing. It was so Slytherin, to spend money like that. Oliver had gotten him a practice quaffle that shrunk and enlarged whenever he wished. Marcus loved it, though he pretended he didn't, the bastard ('it's ok", he'd sniffed)

Percy received two big books that he'd been dying to read. They had grown to know each other a bit better then they thought.

The hat was still insane, though.

* * *

Percy had been glad to have another picture to stick up over the jukebox. Percy was realistic, and he knew that even though they were good fits for each other in theory, maybe it wouldn't last. Maybe Percy was the only one that felt anything between the three of them, so he'd like to solidify the memories while he had them. Colin Creevey had stayed over break with his little brother Dennis, which meant a snapshot of the three of them in their Weasley sweaters.

Marcus had grown a little more comfortable with the Gryffindor quidditch team, having to have spent so much time with Oliver in the past month and a half, but he was still a little wary. Especially with the twins. Definitely the twins.

"Aw, did little Marky get a Weasley sweater!" Fred cooed.

There were actually, many people clad in Weasley sweaters, and Percy  _could imagine_ his mother kicking up a fuss at home about how she had to make more sweaters, that inclusively barmy old bat. Fred, George and Percy were the obvious ones', but their couples Lee, Angelina, Oliver and Marcus had their's as well. As well as Charlie, Arthur, Bill, Ron, Harry, Ginny and Hermione, that was 14 sweaters made on short notice.

That woman could do  _anything."_

"Shush, Freddie, you're just mad that mum made Marcus a nicer one then yours." George called over from his spot next to Angelina.

Marcus chuckled comfortably, elbows on the table and his head resting in his hands, looking casual and confident. His muscles in his jaw moved as he laughed and his hair was a little neater today. His cold eyes sparkled with something akin to warmth.

Percy could watch it all day long. 

But he didn't, because that means he wouldn't be able to watch Oliver.

And  _that_ would be a tragedy. 

* * *

**Third Week of January, Friday**

Since the most memorable Christmas Percy had ever had, life had been normal. Comfortable. Calm. There weren't many test to write. He was fine.

He sadly, could not say the same about Oliver.

The Gryffindor team were playing their semi final match end of February, and Oliver was frazzled. He was sketching up plays at untimely times of the night, drilling the team hours on end, requesting Marcus to  _please, please, pleeeeease even though we're rivals check to see if this play will work of I'll literally pull my brains out through the hair I'm grabbing on my scalp._

In other words, Oliver was a little more nervous then usual.

Percy cared, of course, but he didn't see why Oliver was kicking up such a fuss. It really was obvious that Gryffindor was going to the Cup final at this rate, with the way he'd been training the team.

But Oliver wouldn't hear it. 

"No! Alicia's been bloody sick for the past two sessions and we've been through four plays since then!" Oliver had wailed. He'd been up at the crack of dawn most days either rushing off to train the team or sketching up his own plays. 

Either way, Marcus and Percy had to do something about it.

"Percy, he's insane! He's gone mental!" Marcus whispered to Percy.

They were sitting in the library, by the back table overlooking the pitch. This was so Oliver could check out the dimensions and imagine the play going through itself. He had books strewn all over the table and balled up pieces of  _no good ideas at fucking all!_

"Yeah." Percy muttered back, eyes still on Oliver scribbling at his playbook and opening both his wrecked and new edition of  _Quidditch Through the Ages_. "If he rips another page out of his book, I'll go barmy."

Oliver swore and ripped a page out of his book.

"Bloody fuck, these are all awful." He moaned, standing up abruptly. "I have to go train now with  _something_." He flicked his wand at the books open all over the table, and they neatly placed themselves back in their original places all around the library. The other two boys sighed and rolled their eyes, and made their way back to the dorm.

It had been six hours of playing cards and gobstones and eating dinner and chatting till Marcus got fed up.

"Six hours, Percy. The longest I've trained my team was for 4 and a half and Higgs was in bed with a pulled shoulder muscle for a  _week._ Have they even had dinner?" He said, setting his Exploding Snap cards down. "At this rate, he's not going to have a team. Come, we'll go save your twin brothers and the rest of you Gryffindor lot."

They marched down to the pitch and weren't shocked to see Oliver whizzing around the pitch, yelling bloody murder at everyone who slowed down. There were still weeks till the match. Weeks!

"Oliver Wood!" Marcus yelled. No game, he hadn't heard. It took a couple minutes of Percy screaming and yelling for Oliver to finally fly down, eyes bloodshot from whipping through the wind for hours.

"Are you aware of how long you've been training?" Marcus demanded.

"Not long enough!"

"Absolute bullshit.  _Expelliarmus."_ And Oliver's wand flew out of his Quidditch belt. Percy was shocked. But then he knew exactly what Marcus was doing.

"Flint! What the fuck! Oi! Give it  _back!_ " Oliver roared angrily. Marcus held his hands up, wands in both hands. 

"Calm down, Olly." He said gently. "You've been training six hours! Your teams exhausted! Fred's asleep on his broom!"

And it was true.

"C'mon Marcus." Oliver whined, now knowing Marcus meant no harm with his wand.

"Training's over!" Percy yelled at the Quidditch team. They had never moved to the locker rooms so fast, speeding down and breathing heavily.

"Thank god for you two!" Angelina said tiredly to Marcus and Percy. "We hadn't even had a chasers match yet. Only break we took was for a small dinner and water" And she strode off.

Oliver looked incredulously at the both of them. "Six hours! That's not bad! Professional teams train longer!"

"Yeah, and they're  _professional_." Percy reminded him.

Oliver shook his head stubbornly and planted his foot. Merlin, it was moments like this that made Percy feel like he was parenting.

"No. I. Won't. Go. I need to practice."

Marcus sighed. "I didn't want to do this. Last chance?"

He frowned. "Do what? And I'm not fucking leaving."

Marcus silenced Oliver and Jelly-Leg jinxed him. When Oliver's legs gave out, Marcus caught him, and hauled him onto his shoulders. Oliver pounded on his back and tried to kick, but his weakened legs wouldn't let him.

"I know you're gonna be pissed." He started walking, and Percy followed, taking Oliver's wand. "But 6 hours, Oliver Wood. That's gonna cause fatigue. Fatigue means not taking care of your body properly, especially if you aren't resting up. When you aren't taking special care, you get injuries. Now, stop punching me if I'm right, but I don't believe injuries will do you well in your game against Ravenclaw."

Oliver did not stop pounding his back, but he did it with much less force.

Percy couldn't help but notice the muscles rippling in Marcus's arms, his shirt sleeves rolled up, as he was lifting Oliver.

The Slytherin tossed the other boy onto the bed, taking care not to bump him into anything. 

"I'm going to take the spells off, please, please, please don't hurt me." He cringed, and waved his wand.

He exploded.

"What the  _fuck!_ You had no right! No fucking right! You two disarmed me, dismissed my own training, and then  _jinxed me!_ You prat!" He spat, fuming. His fists were balled and his eyes were bright with anger. "You ganged up on me!"

"We didn't mean it that way!" Percy spoke loudly, hurt. He didn't want Oliver to feel as if they were ganging up on him. After all, if something like that happened to Percy, it would break his heart. 

"Well it sure  _looked that way;_  were you trying to stop us from getting to the finals,  _Flint?_ _"_ He snapped back. "I'm the fucking captain. It's my job to try and win. You of all people should know that!"

_Ah. That was why he was so pissed._

"Oliver! Shut up!" Marcus finally retorted, stepping between Percy and Oliver. "We did it because we care! My own team didn't even cross my mind! You're going to tire yourself to death at this rate, but if we knew you'd kick up such a fuss, we wouldn't have done it. Now get a shower, calm down, and come back out when you're ready."

Oliver opened his mouth to say something, but with a "I'm not a child!", he snapped it back shut and stormed into the bathroom.

Marcus sighed, looking crestfallen, as he flopped onto the bed.

"He called me Flint. We've been doing so well! Haven't even fought since before this thing began. He thought I was gonna sabotage him" He mumbled. 

"Hey, don't worry about it, Marcus. He didn't mean any of it. He's just hotheaded, it's the Scottish in him. Get ready for bed, then. He'll come around. He's being silly." Percy murmured back, ruffling his hair. 

"Alright." Came the tired reply. 

Percy and Marcus waited for Oliver to come out of the shower; Marcus was in the middle tonight. Oliver came out of the bathroom, hair damp, but looking cleaner and less furiously insane. He shifted from foot to foot awkwardly when Marcus and Percy looked to him, eyes dull and hurt.

"I'm sorry." He blurted. "I didn't mean it. I'm just stressed. It's our last year, and with all this Ministry stuff and classes and all that I just wanted to make it the best and I'm sorry it was mean Percy, Marcus I didn't mean to-"

"Oliver." Marcus mumbled tiredly. "Stop babbling, you fool.  It's over, we're fine. You just owe me Charms help now. Come to bed."

 _'Come to bed'_ rang through the dorm. It was a tired sound, but underneath the shallow tiredness to it there was a deeper sense of genuine care for Oliver Wood. Marcus and Percy were too tired to notice it, but Oliver did.

So he climbed into bed, knowing they would all be intertwined the morning after.

* * *

**Second Week of February, Valentines Day**

"Good morning." Snape sneered as the Gryffindor and Slytherin seventh years filed into the Potions dungeon. 

"As you fumbling teens are probably aware, today is Valentines day. With that being said, and all of the Ministry's... ministrations, we will be reviewing an ever so popular, and not completely legal potion in  _celebration."_ His lip curled in disgust at the last part. "Amortentia, the most powerful love potion in the world. I already have a cauldron brewed, so before you go to brew it in your own buffoonery ways, you can come have a sniff and share with the class as a part of the... _activities."_

Oliver was curious. He hadn't been able to smell anything last year due to a blocked nose and a disgusting cold.

He watched as Montague and Warrington went up and sniffed. They had locked their hands. The hat had been right with that pair.

"Flint, come on." Snape drawled. He watched Marcus go up, oozing confidence with his straight back and relaxed hands. He inhaled deeply, and his cheeks pinked slightly.

"Uh- I smell, uhm- parchment, broom cleaner, fresh grass and, uh, sweets. Ink?. Dunno." He said. He had gone much redder at the end of his sentence. 

Peculiar.

"Wood, you."

Oliver took his own sniff of the potion, and instantly was met with many scents he could quite easily identify.

"New inkwell. Quidditch leathers. Something lemony. Fizzing whizzbees."

Oh.

"Sugar quills, sweat, sweets, a home-cooked meal." Was what Percy mumbled. 

And people went on and on and on, but Oliver knew that he knew what the lemon smell was exactly. It was something so familiar. He couldn't put a finger on it. 

The class went on, some potions blowing up, some matching the pearly, pale pink sheen of Snape's. It was a normal class.

It was time for lunch, and Marcus plopped himself between Percy and Oliver.

"Fucking hate Potions, don't you?" He groaned. "Got Transfig next."

"Divination." Oliver muttered back distractedly.

"Arithmancy." Percy replied.

"Ponce."

"Shove it."

"Oh, hush, you two, bickering like and old married couple." Alicia and Katie sat themselves across the trio. Marcus and Percy blushed.

And that's when Oliver found the smell.

"Katie, pass the lemon tart, would you?" Percy waved. 

_Oh._

Ah. That explained it.

Fuck the barmy old hat.

But in all honesty, Oliver knew  _he_ was the one losing his cap.

* * *

He  _was_ almost losing his cap.

He should've figured out the Amortentia thing like a piece of cake! He'd spent all his time with them for three months! 

The lemon tart. Percy had a slice every meal. It was his favourite. The ink wells, he meant, come  _on_ , how could he not have figured that out!

The fizzing whizzbees. Marcus only had them. He had them all the time. 

It had been in the dorm when he'd remembered. Marcus had just come from Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid and was muttering something about "crazy man" and "animals" and "sugar".

"I'm taking one of your Fizzers!" He'd called. Oliver hadn't figured it quite out yet. 

"Sure; you know I hate them anyways." He'd said absently, flicking through his textbooks. 

"Doesn't stop you from buying them!"

_Oh._

The fizzing whizzbees. He really didn't like them, but every single time he popped in to Honeydukes to replenish his supply, he'd grab a bagful anyways, knowing Marcus would be sucking on them daily. He hadn't even realised it. 

 _'I fucking smelled those disgusting Whizzbees! The fucking Fizzers!'_ Oliver thought incredulously.

_That hat was right!_

_I don't have a crush on Marcus!_

But Oliver Wood, did to, have a crush on Marcus.

The fact that he could smell him in the world's most famously notorious love potion  _had_ to mean something, right?

* * *

**Last Week of February, Friday**

He'd done it. Ravenclaw was marching off the pitch, good-naturedly waving, but they hadn't won. Gryffindor had. 

 _Oliver_ had.

He'd flown around the posts for an hour and a half long game, blocking shots and whacking away stray quaffles and swearing when Roger Davies managed to score on him,

It was no matter. They had won and they were going to the final. 

Oliver had cheered with his team, all the way off the pitch and into the lockers and even in the showers.

But now he was walking back to his dorm, clean, happy and content. Alone. 

He'd be playing Marcus next.

See, Marcus and Oliver were  _weird._ They had bullied and fought each other for _years,_ since the beginning. It was shocking when the hat had put them together. Oliver had only felt a deep state of confusion. A little angry. But in a matter of  _minutes,_ Percy had been able to civilise Marcus. Like the taming of a  _beast._  And they'd become fast friends. Quidditch was their common ground. But he was Flint, and Oliver was Wood, and they were both  _so hot tempered._ They bickered and argued and hexed each other occasionally. But they'd always mutter quick apologies, cuff each other round the head and go to sleep in the same bed, with Percy maybe curled in between them. 

Oliver liked the way that Marcus would cuff him round the head, small smile on his face. When Marcus flew, he flew with a rough sort of grace, with the fluidity of someone who knew what he was doing but was still human. He found the way Marcus' grey eyes crinkled when he was reading a text, concentrating. He liked that he was gentle with Percy, who was more of a logical being, someone who looked at life as if it was a bit of an arithmancy question with some emotions thrown in. 

Percy and Oliver went way back, just like him and Marcus. They had been in the same dorm for years, and had been best friends since. Oliver had found Percy so brave when he'd come out, keeping his own thoughts and feelings in the bottom of his heart. He stifled them with Quidditch and schoolwork, instead of having to deal with chatting and saying, " _hey, we're best friends and blokes and I maybe sort of fancy you oh look there's Flint gonna go make fun of his wonky teeth bye Perce!"_

He rather wouldn't.

But things were different now, and just like Oliver was put with Marcus and Marcus was put with Percy, Percy was put with Oliver. There was something true and genuine and powerful there, masked with stinging barbs and snarky remarks. Oliver liked lots of things about Percy, just like he liked lots of things about Marcus. For example, he liked how Percy would fuss over them both. He felt very cared for. He also liked how the redhead would help with their homework, gently chiding them to reach full potential. His grades had never looked so good. 

He liked how Percy would smile lightly to himself when he was working on something, and figured something out, the curve of his lips showing a deal of satisfaction. He would try and count his freckles, sometimes, when he wasn't paying attention, but Oliver always lost count and settled for looking at the way Percy laughed when Marcus would say something extremely stupid.

He quite liked the boys, he supposed.

But just liked he would everything else, he was going to ignore it, pushing those emotions down. Stifled.

He opened the door cheerily, still on his game high.

"Oliver fucking Wood!" Marcus cheered from his spot on the bed. "I'd say congratulations, but now you've just made it harder for us to get the cup, so  _fuck you_ , git."

"Shut up, Marcus, you prat. Well done, Olly, you played really well." Percy opted for instead, giving Marcus a whack behind the head with his newspaper.

"Won it just for you, Marcus." He'd replied, beaming. 

He had, hadn't he?

Everything he'd done, was just so he'd get to the final level. His complete opposite. His  _rival._ Marcus Flint would always be endgame for him.

And he'd fight him too, with his his ride or die, Percy right by him.

* * *

  **Second Week of March, Thursday**

It was a Thursday when Oliver found out what the weird muggle box with the spinning black disc was. 

It was sitting under a wall of photos Percy had fondly gathered. Marcus and Oliver, to that day had not known and hadn't bothered to know what that strange muggle box was. 

It was a Thursday when Oliver trudged into the dorm, fresh off the pitch in an exhausting training. 

It had been a warm, classless, Thursday afternoon when he really fell for Percy Weasley. 

He stopped at the doorway, mouth slightly open.

The freckled boy was just wearing simple sweatpants and a Cannons shirt (ugh), at the kitchenette slowly and clumsily fixing up tea for himself and two black coffees for Oliver and Marcus. He was humming and bumping his hips in beat to the music playing from that funny box.

His blue eyes were lidded and his glasses were crooked on his nose, as he stirred the spoon around rhythmically. 

_"Oh please, say to me, you'll let me be your man."_

Percy set the two cups of coffee and silently and wandlessly cast a Stasis charm over them, so they were toasty for when the other boys came back in need of a pick me up. He still hadn't seen Oliver, mouth curved upwards in a smile. 

" _And please, say to me, you'll let me hold your hand!"_

Percy nodded his head along to the music, smile still present on his face. He looked so natural. At home. 

_"I wanna hold your hand! Oh let me hold your hand!"_

Oliver had to stop watching, or he'd go crazy. 

He cleared his throat. "Hey Perce."

The latter jumped a little, hastily going to turn off the box.

"No! Don't turn it off!" Oliver said hastily. "It's nice."

Really nice. 

"What is it?"

_"And when I touch you, I feel happy inside."_

Percy flushed a little. 

"It's a jukebox." He explained. "Muggles used it for music. Now they have other devices. But my dad has one at home that he tinkers with."

_"It's such a feelin' that my love, I can't hide!"_

"Who's singing?"

"This was some of Ringo Starr's muggle band music. Called the Beatles." 

Oliver watched as Percy gently fixed the needle off the disc, and the music abruptly stopped playing. He found himself disappointed when the upbeat singing stopped, and it was left with just silence. 

"Hey." He said softly. "Keep it playing. You have good taste." He relished in when Percy's skin blushed red. "And it'll give Marcus a little something to listen to when he's back from bitching at Bletchley and Bole."

He smirked at that. "Marcus isn't easily impressed." 

_No, he wasn't._

* * *

But he  _was._

"What the fuck's that?" Marcus had asked incredulously after walking back from the dungeons. 

"Ringo Starr's muggle music." Oliver was on the bed banging his head to the beat, playing with his pens as if they were drumsticks. 

_"Hold you in his armchair you can feel his disease."_

"Is that what the funky box is for?" 

Percy nodded vigorously. "Called a jukebox. My da has one at home." He tapped his fingers against his textbooks, tapping his foot in time.

" _Wow."_ Marcus had eyed the box with curiosity. "Cool."

" _Come together, right now, over me."_

And Oliver commenced to do an air guitar riff. Percy joined in with a drumbeat on his books.

Marcus watched the two fondly, their eyes shut in concentration on their air instruments. It was almost dinner, but Percy had decided to change out of his robes for the afternoon. Oliver had loosened his tie and shucked off his cloak, looking mussed up and happy. 

Marcus liked the warm feeling he felt when looking on at them. 

"Show me some more of this muggle  _jukebox_ then."

* * *

 

**Fourth Week of March, Sunday**

Oliver was bored. 

He'd cancelled training after arguing for a solid hour over the pitch with Marcus, because he'd had the pitch yesterday.

Percy was reading one of those textbooks that would suck him in for hours, so it was a hopeless case. They were both just lounging on the bed. Oliver could hear Percy's quiet breaths, or the page being flipped. He tried to ignore when Percy licked his finger to flick the pages. 

Marcus should be finished training his team soon. He was a good captain. 

Speak of the devil, Marcus barged right through the door, giving Percy and Oliver a start. 

"Fucking Bletchley, can't hit a bludger straight if it was hovering right in front of him." He muttered grumpily. "It's not that hard! You hold the bat, and you swing!"

Oliver loved it when Marcus ranted about quidditch.

He shucked off his quidditch robes until he was in just the quidditch sweater and leathers. 

"Budge up, Wood." He mumbled, and Oliver nudged Percy and rolled into the middle. Marcus dropped onto the bed, facefirst into his pillow. He put his gloved hands into Oliver's lap, and the latter absentmindedly started untying the the tightly tied gloves.

"At this rate, we'll be smashed by you guys." Marcus said, muffled by the pillow. "Pucey wasn't even  _trying._ You know there'll be scouts there, right?" 

"Yeah, yeah, I know." And Oliver did know. The only thing he'd ever wanted was quidditch to be there for life. It was the same for Marcus. That might've been the only reason that Oliver had given the pitch to Marcus for the Sunday. 

"Puddlemere, Montrose, Appleby, even  _Chudley_ is trying a go at getting a few of us." Marcus groaned into his pillow. "There's no way they're going to want any of us at this rate." 

Percy set his book down and glared at the head of black hair. "Hush, you. You're a great player and captain. They'd be flaming idiots if they didn't pick you. Which they will. Pick you, I mean."

And then he picked his book back up and shoved his glasses up his nose again.

All Marcus did was harrumph, but Oliver saw the red flush creep up his neck.

"Damn did Malfoy do your gloves today?" Oliver muttered, working at the knots. "He always does them up too tight. Ask Bole next time."

"I asked him not to double knot but the little shit never listens to me. It would be nice to have functional fingers, in times like this. Mine have been jammed and broken too many times." The other complained. 

"That's 'cause you're going soft on the prat." He fired back. 

In the back of Oliver's mind, he could see how domestic they were. How they'd grown to know each other so well over the past few months.

He knew, for example, which of Marcus' teammates tied his gloves for him too tightly and who did them right. He knew that Marcus didn't mind sleeping in the middle because he was a cold sleeper. He knew that Marcus hated the strawberry shortcake but loved strawberry pie, and was sure to give him the right serving each time. 

He knew that Percy didn't like Divination and thought it was complete bollocks, and Percy had a fear of cockroaches and snakes. He knew that Percy's glasses just wouldn't stay straight on his nose and that his blue eyes had flecks of grey and green. He knew that Percy took his tea with milk and two sugars. 

' _That's not so bad, to know and care, is it?'_ Oliver mused, as he finished unknotting Marcus' gloves, pulling it off and tossing it over to the rest of Marcus' quidditch cloak with accuracy. 

"Thanks." He heard a tired mumble come from his side. Oliver just ruffled his hair in response.

"Rest."

* * *

 

**Second Week of April, Wednesday**

The wall of photos above the jukebox (which had been playing constantly since Oliver and Marcus found out what it was) was bursting with strange memories and inside jokes.

Oliver had known Percy was a sentimentalist, and Colin was pleased to take photos of _anything_ , but when Oliver looked at these solid memories, he saw why. 

Marcus was with his Slytherin mates and Percy was at the library, studying for god knew what, and Oliver was alone, lying on the ground and reminiscing.

It had been around 5 months now, and that stupid hat was right, and Oliver had scraped himself everywhere for the amount of times he kept falling for Marcus and Percy, multiple times, multiple ways.

All at once.

Oliver's favourite photo was the one of them at Christmas. They were all laughing in their Weasley sweaters, probably over something one of the twins said. Oliver was leaning on Marcus and Marcus had an arm around Percy. They looked happy, in the little moving photo. Oliver  _was_ happy.

There was a photo of Marcus during his game against Hufflepuff, hovering near the posts after scoring a goal. He looked crazed, hovering there for a moment before he dashed off again. In the second he was hovering, his eyes gleamed with competition, half smirk on his face, the satisfaction from the goal showing. 

There was another picture of Percy and Oliver, tipsy at the Gryffindor party, arms around each other, boisterously smiling and laughing. Percy's head lolled onto Oliver's shoulder and Oliver smiled drunkenly. 

There was an older picture, one that had been taken before all the Ministry business took place. It was a Slytherin versus Gryffindor match, and Oliver and Marcus were shaking hands. Their eyes were hard, and they were gripping each other's hand firmly, lingering much too long. It was angry, and the photo was full of a fighting spirit that hadn't fully left either of them.

Oliver smiled a little when he looked at the photo Colin had captured of when Fred and George pranked Marcus for the first time. His hair had turned bright red. He was scowling, with the twins standing behind him posing for the camera. Really, this was just Fred and George's way of saying, "welcome to the family!'

Oliver hoped that he could keep Marcus and Percy forever. There had been chat of the Ministry being glad with the outcome of the project, with students learning how to take care of themselves, their couple, and their household. It was a program most likely being there to stay. 

If all of the projects ended up with how Oliver, Marcus and Percy's turned out, he hoped that the program would stay together. 

Oliver had always been a romantic, but never really had the time for romance. With Quidditch and his studies the only things on his mind, he tended to have a one track mind towards everything. When he started crushing on Percy, he didn't try anything with anybody else. Just let his feelings and thoughts fester while his best friend chatted his ear off. 

* * *

 

That weekend, they went to Hogsmeade.

The three of them managed to nab a booth, waving for Madam Rosmerta. She smiled briskly but warmly at them.

"What can I get you lovebirds?"

They all flushed red and Oliver muttered for two butterbeers and a gigglewater- Percy didn't want anything too sweet. 

"What do you guys want?" Percy blurted. "When you're older. What do you want to do?" 

They fell silent in thought, and Marcus answered first, slowly.

"Quidditch, I guess. Preferably Montrose or Wimbourne. Settle down with some people I love, I guess." He pinked at the end of his sentence. He had used "some people" instead of "someone".

"Me too." Oliver piped in. "Puddlemere, though. Dunno. What about you, Perce?"

The redhead chewed his lip thoughtfully. "Maybe head up a department in the Ministry. Maybe the department that runs this experiment. Or go into Healing. Maybe teach in Hogwarts."

"Maybe world domination." Marcus suggested. They chuckled at that. Percy's ambition was admirable. 

"Two butterbeers and a gigglewater. On the house." Madam Rosmerta settled them down on the table. "Business is slow today anyways. I don't see enough of your type anymore."

Percy and Marcus had been confused, but took the offer in stride. Oliver though, on their way out had asked her. 

"What do you mean, our type?" He wondered. 

She smiled kindly. 

"The in love type. Don't see that enough anymore, in this old bar."

And she walked off to serve a lonely man sitting in the booth in the corner.

* * *

**Fourth Week of April, Saturday**

It was the Quidditch final day. Marcus and Oliver had been jibing and poking at each other all week. But that day, they stayed silent. Percy said good luck to them both and left to find his place in the stands, where he'd be supporting Gryffindor, but keeping Marcus in his thoughts.

The only speech they had exchanged had been short.

"Good luck. You'll need it." Oliver murmured, smile in his voice.

"Shut it, Wood. Don't get knocked in the head by a bludger." Marcus had responded quietly, but without any venom.

As they passed each other, walking to opposite locker rooms, their hands had brushed. Oliver felt his fingers tingling even as he was putting on his gloves. 

As they walked out onto the pitch, his heart was hammering. 

"This is for the cup," Madam Hooch yelled over the roar of the crowd. "I want a clean game. Shake!"

The tingling came back full force when Marcus squeezed his hand.

"Mount!" Oliver looked to the crowd for a familiar red head.

She blew the whistle, and the game had begun. 

The minutes went by, some going by faster then you could say "bludger", some going as slow as treacle.

Angelina, Katie and Alicia were doing fantastically, but Marcus, Pucey and Montague were putting up a hellstorm of a fight. Oliver had been faced down by Marcus many a time already, and they were matched evenly.

Oliver glanced over at Harry, who was hovering high above the pitch in search for the snitch. Malfoy was doing something similar a little further away, grey eyes narrowed in concentration. 

"The quaffle goes to Flint, to Pucey, back to- intercepted by Johnson! Angie, you're doing great! To Spinnet, a long throw to Bell and GRYFFINDOR SCORES! 70-60, Gryffindor!"

Oliver whooped from his place by the goals. The red and gold portion of the stands screamed in support. 

"Flint has the quaffle now, and is flying- Flint! What the hell are you doing!" 

Marcus has flown in between the path of two bludgers Fred and George had aimed at him. It was  _incredibly risky._ The crowd held their breath in bated excitement and nerves, as the Slytherin chaser stretched to avoid being hit.

And he did.

And he shot at Olivers left.

And scored. 

Oliver swore loudly.

"Flint scores for Slytherin, and we have a 70-70- what's  _this?_ Harry, go after him!"

Malfoy had seen the snitch, and had gone into a sharp dive for it. Harry immediately whizzed after him. Oliver's breath hitched. 

The crowd was screaming but it had never been so silent in Oliver's ears. 

"Come  _on_ Harry!" He heard Katie scream, because on Harry's Firebolt, him and Malfoy were even. 

Bletchley batted a bludger at the two of them, meaning to aim for Harry.

 _And it hit Malfoy._ Square in the broom, luckily not hitting him. Harry caught the snitch.

The crowd  _exploded._

Gryffindor had won. 

And tears streamed down his face in happiness.

Gryffindor landed on the ground and they all jumped atop of Oliver, screaming. 

"We did it!" Harry held up the snitch.

"We fucking did it!"They cheered. There was happy noise, happy laughter, happy tears and Oliver's heart was about to burst out of his chest with happiness.

"Let's shake hands, you amazing fucking players." Oliver choked out. And he caught Marcus' eye.

He was upset, at losing, but at sight of Oliver, he smiled.

"You did fucking amazing." Oliver said, grabbing Marcus by his robes.

"Shut up, Wood."

And they were kissing, and all Oliver could taste was sweat and tears and maybe a little blood and Fizzing Whizzbees and  _Marcus._ The crowd kept shrieked louder and they broke apart grinning, foreheads pressed together.

"One day", Oliver said, not able to keep the beam off his face. "You and I will win a cup together. You and me. And Percy will be there afterwards every single time forever, you hear? You me and Perce. You fucking got that, Flint?"

"You better believe it, Wood." He shot back, and their teams separated them with catcalls and "get a fucking room!"

But Oliver wasn't finished yet, and he mounted his broom and flew over to Percy in the stands. 

"You have a snog for me too?" Percy taunted, but Oliver could see the faintly masked insecurity there. No place for that, with the three of them. 

"Oh, give me a congratulatory kiss, Weasley. I want one every time I win." And then Oliver closed his eyes and when he pressed his lips against Percy's, bright blue eyes were imprinted on the backs of his eyelids. 

"You better be winning a lot then!" Percy yelled as Oliver sped away to receive the cup from McGonagall. 

As Oliver held up the cup, he saw Marcus hovering on his broom next to where Percy was standing, whispering into his ear. They waved at him from where they were.

Oliver had never been so happy. 

* * *

 

**Four Years Later**

"Oliver Wood! Oliver Wood! How does it feel to have won the Quidditch World Cup for England!" 

"It feels amazing, I haven't been this happy since winning the house cup in Hogwarts years ago!" Oliver wore a bright, charming smile, showing real happiness. 

"What was your favourite part of the entire match, Wood?" 

"I'd have to say, probably when  the snitch was caught! Bulgaria put up an amazing fight, I'm so honoured to have been able to play against them!"

The reporters all captured pictured of his bashful smile. In the corner of his eye, Oliver saw a couple of his other teammates giving interviews as well. He also saw Marcus walking into the locker rooms off the pitch, still cheering about their win.

"Of course they would have been honoured to play you as well! The Hogwarts cup, the League cup, and now the World cup! What's been your motivation behind all this success! There must be something!"

Oliver grinned. "I'm sure everyone is aware of my relationship with Marcus Flint and Percy Weasley, I assume?"

"Yes! Fellow England teammate Marcus Flint, Montrose Captain and chaser, he put up an excellent performance. And Percy Weasley, Head Healer at St. Mungos!" 

"The very two. I made a promise to Marcus back in our seventh year. I told him that one day we'd win a cup together. I'm not the type to break promises." Oliver chuckled as the crowd of press "aww-ed". "And I wouldn't be anywhere if Percy wasn't there to take care of me. Of us. He'll always be our number one fan, and I can count on him to be by my side wherever I go, whenever. I love them both to the ends and back. They're what drive me, I suppose."

"That's very sweet, Wood! This promise, how romantic! How long have you been together?"

"It's our fourth year, I believe." There was adrenaline pumping through his veins; he was still high off his win. He'd fulfilled his promise to Marcus. They'd won together.

"Thinking of marrying anytime soon?" Someone from the back of the crowd called. Oliver's brain and heart short-circuited and he could only say one thing.

"Yes. Yes I am. I'm thinking of that right now, in fact! Excuse me, ladies and gents, but Percy Weasley owes me a congratulatory kiss!" 

And he strode off happily into the locker rooms, feeding off the calls from behind him.

Montague, a fellow Hogwarts alumni-gone-national, clapped him on the back. "Marriage, mate! Marcus heard that!"

Oliver's heart dropped slightly. "Where is he?"

"He squawked and apparated home. Muttering something about "Gryffindors" and "blockheads"." He supplied helpfully;

Oliver grabbed his stuff and did just that.

And was met with a two person tackle as soon as he landed.

"Fucking hell! Oliver!" Marcus screamed, and Percy shook him.

"This isn't a joking matter!" Percy said, his glasses askew on his nose and blue eyes wild. "Especially not for the entire Wizarding World to hear!"

Oliver grabbed them both. "I'm serious! I said it the wrong way, but I mean it! I love you both, and I want to love you both for the rest of my  _life._ Marry me!" He blurted.

The three of them were tangled on the floor, sweaty, mud stained and shocked. 

Percy started crying.

"Th-this better not be a f-fucking joke." He sniffled, looking down at Oliver. "I'll  _slaughter_ you."

Marcus joined in, tearing up. "Oliver Wood, you fucking  _sap."_

"Is that a yes?" He choked out, looking up these two, beautiful people. He wanted them to be his forever.

 _"Yes,_ you idiot. Yes."

And they were, going to be his forever.

So that stupid, barmy, crazy, old hat was right after all, and Oliver had never been so glad.

-fin-

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr at oliivverwood let's chat !!


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